The Gits of Christmas Past
by GhostOfBambi
Summary: The simple tale of an idiot at Christmas.


**Author's Note: I wrote this fic for a Secret Santa gift exchange on Tumblr for the lovely Cristine.**

**The Gits of Christmas Past**

**First Year**

"Merry Christmas," said Lily Evans to James Potter, and handed him a prettily wrapped present.

The weather was good that year – good for Christmas, to be more precise. Hogwarts had been blessed with snow, proper, hearty snow, not the half-hearted snow that never stuck, or turned to ugly, slippery sludge, the kind of snow that James was used to. This snow was the snow of Christmas cards. It had fallen thick, and covered the grounds in a brilliant expanse of glittering white, a flawlessly smooth surface that begged for fresh footprints, tempting bored students who sat idly by windows. And Lily Evans had snow in her hair.

She had raced across the grounds to catch up with him - as fast as anyone could race through several inches of snow - and she was a little out of breath. Steam from Madame Pomfrey's Pepper-Up Potion was coming out of her ears. Her nose and cheeks were glowing rosy red. She wore a scarf of Gryffindor colours, and a pair of woolly mittens. She was cheerful and smiling.

Lily Evans was a pretty little thing, but James Potter hadn't noticed, neither did he care.

At the age of eleven, almost three months shy of twelve, James had no interest in the opposite sex. Girls were occasionally fun to laugh at, and he loved his doting mother, but otherwise they didn't serve much purpose. Furthermore, he did not like Lily Evans at all. She was deeply annoying, always putting her hand up in class, sitting at the front and paying close attention. All of the teachers thought she was some sort of angel. Her best friend was a Slytherin, which he did not approve of. Worst of all, she was a good two inches taller than James, an utterly insufferable trait in a woman.

On the plus side, Evans was easily wound up, and therefore incredibly fun to tease, but James was in a hurry to locate his friends, who were having a laugh with Hagrid, and he had no time for her at that moment.

He eyed up the box in her hand with suspicion. It was wrapped in red paper, and tied with a gold ribbon. Never trust those who give nicely wrapped presents, he had never heard told, but he believed it might serve him well to take that on as a general rule. He enjoyed that, the idea that his life could be entirely governed by a set of principles of his own making. Designing such rules made him feel properly grown-up. James sometimes suspected that he was the most grown-up person in his year. He knew loads of hexes his classmates didn't.

"What's that?"

Lily Evans looked down at the box, and looked back up at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"That thing in your hand," said James. "I want to know what it is."

She looked at the box again. "It's a Christmas present."

"I can see that." He snorted in derision. "I mean, what're you showing it to me for?"

"Well," she said, and paused, and met his gaze, looking doubtful. "Because it's for you."

There were fewer things in life more delightful than receiving a present, but James remained untrusting in this instance. He had lobbed a spoonful of frogspawn at Lily Evans not three weeks ago, and it was entirely possible that she had come to seek revenge. It was what he would have done.

"What's in it?"

"I can't tell you that," said Evans, and laughed. "You'll have to open it on Christmas."

"Why?"

"Because, Christmas presents shouldn't be opened until Christmas."

"Why not?"

"Because, it's not a Christmas present if you don't open it on Christmas Day."

"So, why are you giving it to me before Christmas?"

"Because, we're all going home tomorrow, and if I don't give it to you now I might not get to."

"Why can't you send it by post?"

"Why can't you stop asking questions?" she retorted, and thrust the box beneath his nose.

He faltered, momentarily cowed by her sharp response. Evans was easily annoyed, it was true, but not so easily bested in argument, this he already knew at the tender age of eleven. He wasn't fond of the idea of taking a Christmas present from a girl, for which he would surely be laughed at, but within James was an unquenchable curiosity for everything that surrounded him – though Professor McGonagall would have rather called him nosy – and his need to know what the box contained was greater than his desire to refuse it. Still eyeing it warily, he took it from her, and immediately gave the box a vigorous shake.

"Don't shake it!" Lily squeaked, and held up her hands in a placatory gesture.

"I can if I want, it's my property now," he declared triumphantly. She scowled at him. "What's inside it?"

"I'm not telling you."

"I'll keep on shaking it until you tell me what it is."

"Open it, then. See if I care."

"Open a present before Christmas?" said James, and made a big show out of acting shocked. "How could you tell me to do that? It's wrong! It's against the Christmas rules! I should ban you from Christmas! I should -"

"Merlin, they're just some chocolates!" she snapped, angry. Steam continued to pour from her ears, and it made her looks as if she might boil over, or explode, or burst into flame. He snickered at this. "But you still shouldn't shake them, they might get squished."

"Where'd you buy chocolates from?"

"From Hogsmeade."

"How'd you get to Hogsmeade?" he asked, jealous. Evans had no business sneaking out to Hogsmeade when he, James Potter, had not yet been. "We're not allowed."

"I didn't actually go there," Lily explained, and rolled her eyes. "I got them on owl order. They arrived just this morning."

As if to verify her words, he shook the box again, and heard the rattle of several dislodged chocolates. There was a short silence as he considered this information, and when he came to his conclusion he backed away from Lily Evans in utter disgust.

"Do you love me, Evans?"

Lily's eyes widened, and her face glowed scarlet, in stark contrast to the brilliantly white snow. "Pardon?"

"You love me, don't you?" he said, half-horrified, half-amused. "You want me to be your boyfriend!"

"No I don't!"

"Yes you do!" James insisted, and started to laugh. "Wait until I tell everyone that you asked me out!"

"I did not!"

"No offence, Evans, but I don't want to be your boyfriend."

"I don't want you to be my boyfriend!"

"Yeah, you do."

"No, I don't!"

"You went to all of that trouble to get me romantic chocolates."

"They're not romantic chocolates, and I don't love you!" she cried, practically puce. He'd never seen her so angry in the four months he'd known her. It was hilarious. This would be a great story to recount to his mates, the time he rejected Lily Evans and her fiery, undying love, the passion of which burned with the heat of a thousand suns. He had read those words on the back of one of his mother's novels – the one with the picture of a busty, swooning woman in the arms of a long haired, muscled man who hadn't buttoned his shirt up correctly. They had sounded quite impressive, and he'd stored them away in his memory for future use.

"Yes you do! You love me with the heat of a thousand suns. Why else would you get me a special present?"

"It is not a special present!" Lily spat. "I got chocolates for every Gryffindor in our year! Everybody else already has theirs, even Remus and Sirius, and Peter! Ask them if you think I'm lying!"

"Maybe you did, but I bet mine are the only chocolates with love potion in them," he responded, laughing ever still. "But you're so disgusting that even if I ate them all at once, I'd never – argh!"

Lily had been pushed over the edge – by what he could only assume was lovesick madness, and her desire for him to grow his hair long and wear girly Muggle shirts – and kicked his shin, hard. He fell backwards and landed on his bottom, narrowly avoiding a bush full of brambles. Snarling, he scrambled to his feet and picked up the box of chocolates, which he had dropped, with a view to thrust them violently back into her hands, but Lily had already turned and hurried back towards the castle with her nose thrust high in the air.

"I don't want your stinking chocolates!" he shouted, throwing the box after her, where it landed in the snow, and went unnoticed, for she was already halfway towards the school. "And your head looks like it's on fire!"

**Fourth Year**

"She didn't look happy," said Remus, as he approached the fireplace.

"Who didn't?" said James, screwing up his eyes in an effort to read the front page of the Daily Prophet. Being unable to make out anything besides the headline, he tossed it aside, and let out a noise of impatience.

"Heather," said Remus. "She was crying as I came in. Didn't she just come from here?"

"Yeah," James replied, and rolled his eyes. "Did you know that she was boring, Moony?"

"Course he knew," said Sirius. "We all did."

"Sirius," said Remus warningly.

"What?"

"Don't be cruel."

"He's not being cruel, he's being honest," said James, coming to his friend's defence. "She's duller than Binns, going on about her cat and gossiping about who her mates are snogging and asking me if I'm writing her a romantic poem for Christmas." He frowned. "I dunno why I didn't notice until now. I'm a great judge of character."

"Probably because you could look at her for ten weeks," said Peter, who was sitting on the rug.

"What d'you mean?"

"What he means is that Jordan gets a lot less interesting when you can't stare at her tits while she's talking," said Sirius, sniggering. "Speaking of, find anything, Moony?"

"Not a thing," said Remus, and sat down next to Peter. "I'm thinking that you might be right, Prongs. Somebody might have stolen them."

James's glasses had gone missing that morning. He didn't quite know how, or why, but he was irritated, having spent the day in a state of partial blindness, discerning only vague shapes and colours, unable to read, or see the expressions on anyone's face. The efforts of his friends had proven useless, as did numerous summoning charms, and it seemed as if there was nothing to do but wait until tomorrow, when he would be going home to Christmas, to his mother and his father, and a spare pair of glasses. He had decided, therefore, to ascend his common room throne – the armchair by the fire – and laze about all day, accusing Snape of thievery, maligning several Slytherins for their vile and lawless ways, and until five minutes ago, putting up with Heather Jordan, his girlfriend of ten weeks, whose numerous attempts to engage him led only to irritation.

"I bet Snape did it," said Sirius darkly, and Peter tittered. "I saw him lurking around last night. He's probably put some kind of charm on them."

"Don't be too quick to blame Snape," said Remus hastily. "It could be one of any number of people."

"Nonsense," said Peter, very amused. "Everybody loves James."

"Except Snivellus," said Sirius.

"Except Snivellus," said James, blankly, thinking of other things. "I really think that's it, you know."

"What?" said Peter. "That Snape pinched your glasses?"

"No," James replied. "Well, yeah, but that wasn't what I meant. I meant about Heather."

"That she's a stupid, boring cow," said Sirius. "And you didn't notice because she's alright looking?"

"Yeah. That."

"Took you long enough," Sirius snorted, while Peter sniggered on, and Remus said nothing, probably because he disapproved of such talk, even though he wasn't fond of Heather Jordan, either.

"Are you going to ditch her, then?" said Peter.

"I think I might have to, Pete," said James, and sighed. It was a manly sigh, a resigned sigh, the sigh of a man preparing to embark on a quest to save a host of helpless orphans, because the world depended on him, and he was the only man for the job, and being entrusted with this quest was a tremendous burden, but he would bear it without complaint, because he was self-sacrificing, and heroic. "Can't spend the rest of my life listening to her moaning on and on, can I?"

"You've picked a great time for it," remarked Remus dryly. "Christmas, and all that."

"Women are all whiny like that," Sirius interjected. "I was getting sick of her hanging around, talking shit. I tried my best not to complain."

"You complained constantly," put in Peter.

"I didn't say I succeeded."

"I can't believe it took me this long to notice," said James, shaking his head. "Madness."

"Sounds like whoever nicked your glasses did you a big favour, mate," said Sirius.

"I suppose you could say that it took the loss of my sight, my blindness, as it were, for me to truly… see."

"If you're trying to be poetic, Potter," said Lily Evans, her voice wafting over from somewhere behind him, as Peter dissolved into a fresh wave of sniggering and Remus audibly groaned. "I'm genuinely going to be sick."

James immediately sat up straighter and looked over his shoulder, grinning at the blurred mass that was Lily Evans, his favourite target of late. The girl was intelligent and mature, but incapable of keeping her mouth shut when she felt as if she'd been wronged, which meant that she was endless fun to make fun of – although he refrained from hexing her, and got oddly protective whenever Sirius suggested doing as much.

"Hark, it's Evans, and she comes bearing gifts!" cried Sirius, before James could manage to think of a witty, impressive response. "Come to give us our annual festive chocolates?"

"In a minute, Black," said Evans, and rounded James's armchair, presumably to face Sirius, who sat across from him. "You lot are horrible."

"An unusual Christmas wish," said Sirius. "But I suppose it's inventive."

Remus, in the meantime, had stood up. This, James believed, was a move considered polite and chivalrous in some circles, rising from one's seat every time a woman arrived or departed. On his part, he thought it seemed pointless, but Remus was always doing polite things like that. This was probably the reason why Lily seemed to like him best out of all four of them.

He briefly considered doing the same, but worried that he might bump into something and fall over, or blink stupidly at a spot two feet away from Evans, assuming it was her. He liked to be cool and unruffled around Evans, not blind and clumsy and bumbling.

"What's wrong?" said Remus. "What did they do now?"

Lily and Remus got along quite well, and were in danger of becoming friends. James saw them together sometimes, laughing in the common room, or hanging about in the library, and it often made him angry, but he wasn't quite sure why. He didn't know if Lily fancied Remus, and didn't know if Remus fancied Lily – he didn't want to ask – but either way, he sometimes thought that they might end up together. The idea of it made him feel unpleasant, gave him cold shudders. He didn't know why, and introspection wasn't his forte. He sometimes claimed that he didn't want some stupid girl taking a member of their group away, although he thought he might have been lying, but it served as good fodder whenever he took it upon himself to berate Remus. Terms such as 'fraternising with the enemy' were also good for such endeavours.

"We haven't done anything," he piped up, eager for attention. "What's wrong, Evans? That time of the month again?"

"Not your best," she replied, in a casually cold remark tossed over her shoulder, which was apparently all the attention she had to spare for him.

"I haven't eaten in a while," he grumbled, disappointed.

"You know what I'm talking about, Remus," she said, in her stern, disapproving voice. "This prank you've been pulling."

"Pardon?" said Remus.

"Because I'd expect it from the other two, you know, but you? Really?"

"I'm, ah, sure I don't know what you mean," said Remus, but he seemed amused, and James could just make out Lily's arm, which she raised – apparently to point at Peter. "Oh."

"What?" said James. "What? What?"

"Don't you think it's gone on for long enough?"

"Why do you care?" said Sirius hotly. "Didn't think you'd be bothered."

"Normally, I wouldn't be," she said. "But this is dangerous. He could seriously hurt himself."

"He wouldn't have," said Remus. "Honestly. We've been keeping an eye."

"Yeah," said Peter. "We were just having a laugh."

"You don't understand," said Sirius. "We were driven to it. That bloody girlfriend of his."

"I still don't think it's acceptable, Black. If he'd been hurt…"

"What's going on?" James demanded.

"It was a joke, Evans," said Sirius, and snorted. "He's done worse to us. It's a bloke thing. You wouldn't get it. Give us our chocolates and bugger off."

"It's bullying."

"Who cares? It's funny. He won't mind."

"You'd be singing a different tune if he'd ended up with an injury."

"Like what? If he scraped his knee and needed to go to Pomfrey for an Acid Pop and a kiss on the forehead?"

"Can I just say," said James, loudly, and Evans turned around – or at least, he thought she did. "That whatever they did to whoever they did it to, I wasn't involved this time, so you can spare me the lecture."

"Obviously, Potter. They're having you on. They – give me those," she snapped, and seemed to swoop down upon Peter, who let out a wildly embarrassing noise. For a wild moment, James thought she'd made Peter a slave to some bubbling animal lust of hers, but then she straightened up. "Your idiot friends are the ones who nicked your glasses."

"What?!" he cried, and yelped as something hit him hard in the face, and bounced off his nose. His three closest friends in the world burst out laughing. "Fucking hell!"

"Oh my God," Lily breathed. "I'm so sorry, my aim is crap. Hang on."

She moved closer and bent over him, and he was very aware of her, of her presence, of the warmth of her body, and how nice she smelled, clean and inviting, there was nothing of Heather's artificial, overpowering floral perfume about her. She picked up his glasses from wherever they had fallen and placed them in his hands; he put them on, and everything swam into focus, and the first thing he saw was her throat, and her skin, a fleeting glimpse of snow white lace, because she'd left the top two buttons of her blouse undone.

"You alright, Potter?" she said, and he imagined what she might look like if her blouse magically fell open, because he wanted a better look at her bra, and the beautiful womanly mysteries it concealed.

"You didn't break my nose," he responded. "If that's what you mean."

"You lot are idiots," she said. He could actually make out the bra through her blouse.

"You hurt me too, you know," said Peter. Evans straightened up and turned to him, and James surreptitiously crossed his legs.

"Get up off the floor and stop milking it, Peter," said Lily. She might have had matching knickers, it occurred to James. White and lacy, and pretty, and soft. He suddenly felt quite hot all over. "I barely touched you."

"You kicked me."

"I nudged you."

"You pummelled him viciously," said Sirius. "He's got witnesses."

"Leave her alone, Sirius," said James, miffed that Sirius was getting on Lily's case. "She was coming to my rescue. Why did you lot steal my glasses, you pricks?"

"Dunno," said Sirius, shrugging. "April Fool?"

"It's December!"

"Then I'm out of explanations."

"Arsehole," he said. "Evans, don't give any of them their Christmas chocolates. Give them all to me."

"No," she said, and retrieved their presents, which she had left on an unused table nearby. "If I stopped giving out Christmas presents to arseholes, you'd be first off my list."

"That hurts," he said, and meant it. She handed him his box first, which then made him feel special – he must have been her favourite. It was an odd mixture of emotions.

"Who cares?" She tossed one to Peter, who thanked her, then Sirius, who didn't, and the last to Remus, who also gave thanks, and got a smile for his trouble. "Happy Christmas, imbeciles."

"Oi, why does Remus get a bigger box?" said Sirius, and pointed, annoyed. James looked. Remus did, indeed, have a significantly larger box in his hands. His heart exploded with envy.

"I got him something different. I'm off. See you later."

She strode off towards the portrait hole, and James's body seemed to act of its own accord – rising from his seat and following her out, leaving his chocolates untouched on the chair. Unsure of what to say to her, and afraid of looking like a fool, he hung back for several minutes – essentially stalking the girl – something that Snape would have done, no doubt - until she stopped to duck into one of the girls' toilets. He waited for her outside, and caught her as she left.

"Potter!" she gasped, and jumped in alarm. "You scared me half to death!"

"Alright, Evans?" he replied, with his hands in his pockets.

"Were you following me?" she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Yes."

"Right. Why?"

"Wanted to ask you something."

"By all means, fire away."

He grinned at her in his most winning fashion. "Do you fancy Remus?"

She blinked. "What?"

"Do you fancy Remus?"

"Do you think I fancy Remus because I bought him a book instead of chocolates?"

"It's a lot more complex than that, and you know it."

"Really?" She cocked her head to the side, and considered him carefully. "It's just that you seem to set a lot of store by the gifts I give people at Christmas."

"What are you talking about?"

"You don't remember first year, then?"

"Of course I do, it came before second year," he responded, irked. "Stop avoiding the issue, Evans."

"I'm not avoiding any issue."

"It's a very simple question, one that I'd expect you to have an answer for."

"What business is it of yours who I do or do not fancy?"

"Answer my question first," he proposed. "Then I'll answer yours."

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because," she said, and placed her hands on her hips. "You're asking me if I fancy Remus, which means you obviously feel like you have some entitlement to stick your nose into my business, and I'd like to know why you think this is the case."

"Because he's my mate, and I'm protective. I don't want some floozy breaking his heart."

"Bollocks!" she said. "This is some kind of prank."

"Excuse me?"

"You're asking because you're planning some elaborate joke where I'd think I was going on a date with him, but then you'd show up and humiliate me."

"I'd never!" he cried, scandalised by her accusations.

"Yes, you would, you love doing stuff like that."

"I would not!"

"Then, why do you care if I fancy him or not?"

"Because," he began, and there was a moment of terror, of awkward, spluttering silence, of oozing dark matter enveloping his brain. "I think I might fancy him."

Her eyes widened significantly. "What?!"

"You!" he amended wildly, realising his mistake. "Sorry. I meant you. I think I might fancy you."

She stared at him in horror, as if he'd suggested kicking a baby for sport, turned on her heel and walked away. Nonplussed, he followed her immediately.

"You shouldn't walk away when someone tells you they might fancy you, Evans," he informed her, jogging to keep up with her fast pace. It was almost as if she didn't want him to walk with her. "It's impolite."

"Good," she said. "That was my intention. I'm glad you weren't confused."

"You still haven't answered my question about Remus."

She stopped abruptly, so abruptly that James had actually taken several steps before he noticed this, and was forced to go back.

"Are you serious?"

He refrained from making a joke about Sirius. Those jokes weren't funny. Nobody liked them. "About what?"

"About fancying me, Potter. What did you think I meant?"

"Yeah, I was serious," he said. "So do you fancy Remus or not?"

"No!"

"Good," he said, and felt relief like he never could have expected. "Do you want to go out with me, then?"

"What?"

"Think of it as your Christmas present," he offered, with a dashing grin.

"You think that a date with you would be like a Christmas present?"

"Better than a Christmas present!" he amended. "Some people get socks for Christmas."

"I'd rather have socks for Christmas!"

"This is a onetime offer, you know," James warned her seriously, lest she say something she regret. "I'm not going to ask you out again. I'm too popular with the ladies; I'll be off the market soon."

"Off the market?" she repeated in disbelief. "Where do you get these phrases?"

"At the phrase shop," he said, somewhat unkindly. "Where do you think, Evans?"

"I don't want to go out with you, Potter."

"Course you do," he said. "I think you've been Confounded."

"I haven't."

"Or," he suggested. "Snape has you under the Imperius curse."

"Yeah," said Lily sarcastically, and her cheeks were very pink, and she was very flustered. "Yeah, that's exactly it. My best friend used an Unforgivable curse on me to make me say no to a boy who I would have said no to anyway. That makes perfect sense. How have I lived without your infallible logic?"

"I always knew there was something rotten about old Snivelly."

"There's something rotten about you, Potter," Lily corrected. "If you think I – are you looking at my boobs?"

"It's not my fault." He pointed at her left breast. "I can see all of your bra through your top."

She stared in disbelief, then turned and walked away.

"Happy Christmas to you too!" he shouted.

**Seventh Year**

"You would've made a great Hufflepuff."

She glanced up from her essay and raised her eyebrow, and then smiled, as if to herself. James was happy to watch her work from across the table, bathed in the warm glow of candlelight, that flickered and danced and bounced off her hair. The common room was covered in mistletoe and holly wreaths, which rather enhanced the overall effect. Lily was made up of Christmassy colours, all glossy red hair and vivid green eyes.

"I'm going to take that as the compliment I believe it is," she said, after a short silence, as she scribbled away, writing great words of wisdom. "Rather than the insult you might have intended."

"It was a compliment, actually."

"Well, there you go," she said. "I'm so terribly, terribly clever."

"And modest, I see."

"Almost as modest as you," she agreed. "What made you say that, anyway?"

"What, that you're modest?"

"No, silly, that I'd make a great Hufflepuff."

"Because you look brilliant in yellow," he said, and grinned brilliantly. "Like a little ginger canary."

"I look awful in yellow!" she said, laughing. "What's the real reason?"

"It's that you look like a badger."

"I will throw things at your head, James."

"Nah, you wouldn't," he said. "Everything on your side of the table could cause real damage, and you're too nice to hurt me." He smirked. "Such a Hufflepuff."

"You've insulted me now. Calling me nice? You arsehole."

"Someone had to tell you eventually; it's best you hear it from me."

"I still want to know why you think I'm a Hufflepuff."

"I already told you!" he said. "It's because you're nice!"

"Lots of people are nice, though," she argued. "Nice isn't enough of a reason."

"You're overly nice, then."

"See, that sounds like you're taking a jab at me."

"I'm not!" he insisted. "I just meant that you're, you know…"

"Nice?"

"That's it, in a nutshell."

She rolled her eyes, and returned to her essay.

"And your aforementioned badger face."

She put down her quill. "James!"

"What?"

"Are you trying to wind me up?"

"Of course I'm not," he assured her, attempting not to laugh. "You'd make a great Ravenclaw, too."

"Because I look fantastic in blue?"

"I was going to say something about your unbridled genius, but your reason's better."

"Is this your way of saying you wish I'd been put in a different house?"

"Definitely not," he said emphatically. The very idea of it was horrible. "Who would I have picked on for all of these years?"

"Somebody more deserving, no doubt." She picked up a chocolate from the box they were sharing, and popped it into her mouth. "You know, I can't see you in any other house. You're a Gryffindor all over."

"It's because I look sexy in red, isn't it?"

"I'm not answering that."

"With my masculine good looks."

"It might be because you act like you have masculine good looks," she said, and shoved the chocolate box towards him. He took one as well. "Then there's the constant showing off."

"Hurtful."

"Man up, you big baby."

"I just went on and on about your intellectual prowess, and how lovely and sweet you are," he complained. "And you respond with wanton cruelty!"

"Ooh, wanton. Good word."

"I'm going to have to take back what I said about your Hufflepuff qualities."

"So I no longer remind you of a badger?"

"Because you're callous, and you hate me. Badgers aren't hateful."

"How do you know they're not hateful?" she said, and rolled up her parchment. "My back is killing me from sitting hunched all night."

"Are you going to bed?" he asked, watching her stand up and stretch.

"In a minute," she replied, and started to root through her bag, which sat on the table. "I've got your Christmas present in here."

"Chocolates of my own?" he said, surprised. "I thought that the ones we were sharing were mine."

"Oh, no," she said, and took out a box, prettily wrapped with a shiny gold ribbon. "No chocolate for you this year, I'm afraid."

His face fell. "No?"

"Chocolates are my generic present, for miscellaneous people, who I don't really like. I had to get you something a bit more special this year."

"Something special, eh? Do you love me or something?"

"You wish," she said, and tossed the box at him. "Shake it, and I'll beat you with this book."

"An unnecessarily violent threat, Evans."

"Pretend I said something trite about redheads having bad tempers."

"I can't believe you'd say something so trite about redheads having bad tempers."

"Ashamed of me, then?"

"Deeply." He set down the box, and reached down to take a wrapped box from his own bag. "I got you something, too."

"Where are you keeping it?" She wiggled her eyebrows. "In your trousers?"

"You wish," he retorted. "I haven't used that line since fifth year, I'll have you know."

"You were so smooth back then," she quipped, reaching out for her present, which had been wrapped far less nicely than she one she had given to him. "Can I open it now?"

"No, you can't," he said, handing it over. "It's not a Christmas present if you don't open it on Christmas Day."

"I think my Mum used to say that."

"She must have," he said. "I got it from you."

"Aww, now I can't open it, or I'll be a hypocrite." She stuffed her gift into her bag, and swung it over her shoulder. "I'm going to head up, I think. I'm exhausted."

"I think I will too, in a minute." He yawned, and stretched his arms above his head. "I'll see you on the train tomorrow morning, yeah?"

"Celebrating Christmas with our prefectly underlings," she said, and grinned, and headed off towards the girls' staircase. "Night night."

"Night," he said, and she disappeared from view. "Lily?"

Her head reappeared from behind door. "Yeah?"

"Are you still coming to mine for New Year's Eve?"

"Course I am, wouldn't miss it. Do you and Sirius still kiss at the stroke of midnight?"

"Obviously," he deadpanned. "Don't expect too much. It's starting to lose its thrill, to be honest."

"That's sad, I was looking forward to it."

"So is Sirius," he said. "Don't tell him I told you."

"If you're looking for someone else to take up the mantle this year," she said, and diverted her eyes. "You can always ask me."

"To kiss Sirius in my place."

"To kiss you in his place."

He blinked several times. "Are you serious?"

"Maybe," she said, and disappeared up the stairs, and left him alone with his thoughts and a present.

"I'll hold you to that!" he shouted.


End file.
